


And I never saw you coming (and I'll never be the same)

by gustin_puckerman



Series: You're my Achilles heel [2]
Category: Mr Robot
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:23:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gustin_puckerman/pseuds/gustin_puckerman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot is afraid of people and flinches from any physical contact. When too many bump into him during the day, Shayla is there to make everything okay again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I never saw you coming (and I'll never be the same)

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is basically the whole prompt I got on tumblr. Please, do enjoy.

 

“Hey. _Hey_.”

How long has she been standing there? No, wait. He’s asking the wrong question, isn’t he? How long has _he_ been standing here? Where did she came from? How did they get here? Where is he? There are too many voices. Too many eyes. Is everything happening inside of his head? Is the world actually going a little too fast for his liking? When did the Earth get so crowded?

“ _Dude_ , calm down.”

Shayla. _Shayla_. Her name is Shayla. And her eyes are a mix colour of silver, brown and something else—though Elliot suspect that’s only because she’s been fashioning with eye contacts lately. He’s forgotten what her true eye colour looks like. So he gawks.

“Hey, come on.”  
Her voice comes again, urging, half-pleading. And he looks down and takes note of her exposed shoulder, her oversized shirt that has a messy custard stain atop her right breast, her sneakers. Those tattoos. He remembers staring dumbly at them one of those times that he’s gotten her naked. They’re really pretty. Though he never tells her that. He looks up again, blinks. And realises that she’s not wearing any colourful lenses right now.

Her eyes are sharp. Very sharp.

“I’ve been wailing out your name across the street for five minutes, you weirdo. Are you okay?” He thinks she knows the answer to her own question to moment it passes through her lips, but she doesn’t take it back. He notices that they’re near a wall, somewhere a bit more secluded; a perfect spot for passerby to walk by and not give a shit. Did she pull him to this corner? Did _he_ get himself into this corner?

“Y…,” His word tastes false against his own tongue, but he swallows those guilt down. Nods slowly. “Yes. I’m okay.”

She rolls her eyes, slurping carelessly into a juice that she must’ve bought from that shop five blocks away from their place. Shayla loves that place. Juices are the only few healthy things that she continuously takes without complaint. He wonders what are his healthy things that he continuously takes without complaint. Or in his case, _cringing_. Maybe nothing. Maybe that chicken from that Thai restaurant he orders once every two weeks. Maybe it’s Angela’s dad’s famous Hot Chocolate that isn’t actually that famous.

“You’re such a loser, you know that?” Shayla shakes the plastic cup, staring so sharply that for a moment Elliot truly think his brain has short circuited. She reminds him uglily of his 4th Grade English teacher who used to scold him non-stop when he refuses to speak up in class. “You don’t really think that you can actually lie to me, do you, Elliot? Jesus, man. We _smoked_ together. That shit mean something, alright.”

They do a lot of things together. For neighbours, maybe. But he doesn’t say this of course. He looks around again and sees people swarming his visions. Lots of them. All crowding in. Marching up. From left, right. Behind. In front.

“Hey. Come on. _Look at me_.” She takes a step closer. He flinches. She purses her lips. “Elliot.”

He does.

And she’s smiling. The sharpness to her stare melts into something softer, gone the image of evil English teachers, and then Elliot notices that it’s just Shayla. There’s a bump of a faint scar under her jaw (she tells him it’s because she fell riding a skateboard when she was fourteen.), and tiny pearl of sweats rolling down the edge of her nose and there might be a smudge of make-up that hasn’t faded properly because Shayla hates staring into the mirror for too long.

“That’s it. There you go. The world ain’t that scary, Elliot. I’m here, aren’t I?” She grins mischievously, a little lazily even, leaning back and relaxing. He tries following her calm posture, hands curling and uncurling repeatedly. “You’re okay.”

“They keep…” He admits, feeling like a stone dragging onto his words, but he wants to believe her. So he tries, “They keep _bumping_ …” He swallows. “They keep bumping into me. I just—I don’t—”

“Like being touched. Yeah, I know. You don’t like people much. We talked about this remember?” She answers this with a knowing glint in her eyes, and his mind travels back to that messy-haired girl that he talked to on the red steps of their apartment. He likes that day. He likes that day very much.

“That’s right. You’re relaxing. Good. You must’ve went to your happy place, or something, huh?” She grins with her teeth biting onto the straw, and he focuses on that for a second, before letting her words finally burn itself across the back of his head.

Happy place? He question silently. Does that exist?

What are his happy places?

One of them must be Shayla. Maybe. Because she’s right. He’s relaxing. And he was thinking about the first time they’ve officially met. The world isn’t so small anymore. He looks around nervously, licks his lips and takes deep breaths. He can see her nodding.

“Look, next time—just remember to breathe okay? You’re fine, Elliot. Don’t go and have like, a freak meltdown in the subway or something. I can’t always come down here and save your cute damsel ass that’s in distress.” She smiles some more, beckoning to a road across the street. “Now, come on. I noticed that you ran out of fish food the other day. Maybe we can buy some? Together? I mean, only if you’re into that.”

Elliot considers that idea and slowly—he falls into step with her.

(“You’re a pretty sick guy, Alderson. But you’re okay.” She smiles at him when they’re hunting for food fish and the shop’s mostly empty. Did she purposely choose this? Has she foreseen this?) (It’s Shayla, so who knows.) (Elliot certainly doesn’t.) (She says some more, “You need to know that you’re okay, okay? That whatever happens, someone like you—you’ll get through it. A little bit crazy, sure, but like—all great things are. So, whatever, you know? Plus, there’s the fact that you’re like, a freaky smart genius hacker or whatever.”) (He grins at that. A little bit. He has to.) (Only _she_ can make a compliment sounds so… _easy_. Sounds something that’s incredibly simple. Achievable. Yet unique. Like he’s special or something.)

(“But I mean, the main thing is, you’re _okay_. Whatever happens. Do you get me? Elliot? Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”)

(“I…,” he nods slowly, “I guess.” Even though no, not really.)

(But he thinks she knows that.) (She still grins anyway, and bumps their shoulders a bit.) (He doesn’t flinch at that.) (Maybe because he knows her. Maybe because it’s Shayla.)

(“Don’t worry,” she smiles when he looks at her and he notices that she looks a little shy. A little young.) (She looks pretty.) (“You guess is enough.”)

(And on that moment, he believes her.)


End file.
